


A Compromising Position

by Seabirdsong



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, First time with a man, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, One Night Only, Out of Despertion, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 23:17:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6214126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seabirdsong/pseuds/Seabirdsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sera has drugged Alistair and Cullen with a potent aphrodisiac, thinking that not only does the uptight Commander desperately need to get laid, but that she's also doing a favor to the prudish duo's many hopeful, lovesick admirers. </p><p>Cullen's not the kind of man to take advantage of a lady, but when self-exiled to a tower with Alistair in order to ride out a spell of desperate sexual needs... well, some other concessions might be made. </p><p>This will be a short work, only about 3 chapters. It's a just-for-fun Cullistair smutfest. I'm really not trying to make it anything more.<br/>Also please note that unintentional ingestion of this aphrodisiac to get these two banging necessitates a 'dub con' trigger warning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Btw, this is in a world where both the HoF and Quizzy are male, so Alistair and Cullen are unromanced and free.

The ale didn’t taste right. Alistair glanced over at Cullen, who was glaring suspiciously down into his half-emptied flagon. The blond Commander looked up sharply, casting his eyes around the tavern, searching for a figure he seemed not to find.

“Where did that blasted elf go?” he grumbled.

“Sera?” Alistair turned and took his own survey of the room. She’d originally come from the second level of the tavern, where she always seemed to be, but he hadn’t seen her ascend the stairs again. He’d only been in Skyhold for a week, but already he was used to the girl’s loud laughter and peculiar speech as just a regular part of the tavern atmosphere. He still could hardly make out a word she was saying half the time, but Cullen seemed to have learned to decipher it, at least based upon the conversation they’d had when she’d dropped off the pints. Alistair stilled himself, listening for her distinctive brand of noise. If she’d retreated up to her little nest on the second floor, she was being uncharacteristically quiet there.

“I don’t hear her,” Alistair shrugged. He took another sip of his ale, holding the cool liquid against his palate and trying again to pinpoint that odd flavor. It tasted… green, almost like hay. It actually mixed quite well with the ale, and certainly didn’t taste deadly. In fact, it was familiar somehow, like something he’d had once a long time ago, but he couldn’t quite place when, or why.

Cullen slid his flagon away and folded his arms over his chest. “I knew we shouldn’t have accepted these blighted pints. She’s always pulling these little stunts, even though she knows well enough that I do _not_ find them amusing.”

Alistair shrugged again. Over a decade of sating his ravenous Warden appetite on whatever he could salvage had given him an iron stomach. The fact that he was certain he’d had whatever she’d added to their ale before, and was still alive to talk about it, was also enough to ease any concern. What kind of a fool would poison the Commander of the Inquisition and a Grey Warden anyway. 

“You know that’s probably why she does it, right? Don’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction,” Alistair sighed.

In truth, he’d been thinking he could use a distraction. Ale wasn’t always enough to quiet that blighted demon song in his mind, the one that was driving the other Wardens to dangerous ends. The hard liquor helped some of the time, but only made the song louder at other times. Drugs though? Herbal “stunts”?

He shrugged again. As long he wasn’t stuck on the chamber pot for hours and his life wasn’t in danger, maybe something fun might come from it. A little mental trip perhaps. Maybe sleep. There was that one herb that Morrigan had… the one that made you hallucinate. Maybe that’s why this tasted so familiar. Perhaps he’d merely go on a little psychedelic trip for an hour or two and then pass out. He laughed to himself as he thought of Cullen’s reaction, suddenly seeing things that weren’t there. That _would_ be a pretty funny prank.

His laughter died quickly. No, Cullen probably wouldn’t respond well to that at all, not after things he’d endured in his past.

Alistair swallowed heavily and sat up. He was tempted to keep drinking the ale anyway, just to see what would happen, but thought the better of it. If it was that herb of Morrigan’s, Cullen would probably need considerable help getting through it, and that wouldn’t be easy to do if he was too caught up in it himself. He pushed the flagon away and sat quietly across from Cullen.

They’d been chatting for a time about the chantry, the Order. Alistair still had a vivid memory of the first time he’d ever seen Cullen, crouched and strung out in that strange magical orb in Kinloch Hold. He’d been impressed at the man’s apparent fortitude then, his determination not to be broken despite the unspeakable horrors inflicted upon him. And seeing him now, serving proudly as the Commander of one of the youngest, yet strongest armies in the land, and Alistair was finding himself a little bit in awe. Even more surprising was Cullen’s apparent humility about it all.

He didn’t seem particularly happy though. Mostly his face was a mask of neutrality, except for when he was scowling. Alistair supposed a life that revolved mostly around duty and hardship would do that to a man. Just as it had Alistair.

“Whatever it is…” Alistair began, searching his memory once again. “I’m fairly certain I’ve had it before.”

Cullen raised an eyebrow, waiting for Alistair to continue.

“It might be this herb that I had once during the blight. It makes you see things for a while. Nothing I saw was frightening exactly. Just… things turning colors, changing shapes, lights in the sky…”

“For what purpose?” Cullen asked, his frown deepening.

“Escape mostly,” Alistair answered. “We got up to all sorts of things to take our minds off the hordes of darkspawn and all the death. I could be wrong, but…”

Alistair reached for his flagon, wanting to take one last sip, see if tasting it again would jog his memory. The hallucinogen could have been it, but still there existed the twinge of doubt.

The flagon was halfway to his lips when Cullen grabbed it out of his hand in a single swift motion

“Well if you’re not bloody _sure_ …” Cullen admonished, slamming the flagon back down. A wave of ale sloshed over the rim, splattering onto the tabletop. “Maker’s breath!” the Commander sighed, his fingertips squeezing at the bridge of his nose.

“No, this is going too far,” said Cullen resolutely. He sat up straight and collected the two flagons in one hand, before pushing his chair back and standing. He continued to growl, but it seemed he was speaking more to himself than to Alistair. “Drugging the Commander of the Inquisition is a serious offense…”

He turned and stalked back toward the bar. Alistair watched as he barked a few words to Cabot and handed off the flagons, then turned to stomp back toward the front door of the tavern, muttering to himself along the way. Alistair heard the words “disciplinary action” as he passed by.

“Commander!” Alistair called behind him. “I’m in the northwest tower if you need… well, if you start seeing things.”

  
  
  


Alistair stepped out onto the rooftop patio adjacent to his quarters. It had been almost an hour since he’d had the ale, but felt nothing yet to indicate what it was he’d consumed. The glass of rum in his hand was helping warm his belly, and this at least he knew was without mysterious additions. He’d almost wished he’d followed Cullen to go find Sera, so he could see the tongue lashing he was going to give the girl, see her explanation and if she admitted what it was. At the very least she’d certainly she’d have a whole arsenal of colorful retorts prepared. Alistair might even have learned some new curse words.

With a sigh he settled onto the chair he’d positioned at the edge of the rooftop, the one he’d been sitting in to watch the sun set for nearly seven evenings now. The view was actually spectacular. The courtyard below was always bustling with interesting, strangely outfitted people. Birds of every color flitted from tree to tree, and once the sun began to sink behind the Skyhold walls, the sky exploded into a breathtaking tapestry of hues. Throw a possible hallucinogen into the mix, and he was sure he’d be in for a quite a show.

Alistair took a deep breath as he waited. One sip and then another of his rum, savoring the burning tingle as the liquid scorched down his throat. In the courtyard below he heard a chorus of girlish giggling, and his eyes landed upon a group of women standing in a small cluster on the far side of the lawn. They’d collected there for the last few nights, and at times he thought it seemed they were looking up at him.

He laughed the thought away. The few people who knew who he was seemed to be doing a bang up job of keeping his identity secret, making it impossible that these women actually cared about some random man sitting atop a tower roof. There was no way they could even see him that well. But again and again their faces turned his direction, followed by more giggles. Alistair sighed, figuring there must be something behind him that they were looking at instead. Perhaps one of the guards who did occasional patrols of the battlements.

The doors to the Great Hall flew open with great force, drawing his attention away from the women. Even with the distance there was no mistaking the figure who emerged, blond haired and dressed in a regal outfit of red and black. Cullen always looked bigger than he was just from the confidence in his posture. But his anger was clear in every step he took, in the stiff way he held his arms as he descended the stairs, in the firm set of his jaw that was unmistakable even from across the courtyard. Heads turned as he made his way down toward the passage that would lead to the lower courtyard. Alistair snorted at the women who’d all frozen into place, their attention fixed firmly on the Commander now as he disappeared from sight. Murmurs erupted from the group as the women resumed a hushed conversation, but no one turned to look up at Alistair again.

 

It was then that he felt the first stirring in his lap. It happened that way sometimes, that one’s manly equipment just seemed to come to attention for no discernible reason. It was just one of the things you just got used to as a man. Since the calling had begun, and his mind was filled with a whole host of new fears and worries, Alistair’s own equipment had practically seemed to go into hibernation. But the stirring was only growing in intensity, reminding Alistair just how long it had been since he’d taken matters into his own hands.

Or, for that matter, had a woman. Weeks? Months? Time on the run often blurred into a long, unbroken line, and all those days and nights holed up in Crestwood had been no exception. In fact, it probably made it worse, since the sky had been constantly hidden by that unending blanket of storm clouds, which seemed to trap that whole landscape in one long twilight. The deprivation of natural cycles of day and night had wreaked havoc on his mind then, making his time there feel like an eternity.

Alistair threw back the last of his rum, figuring he might as well relieve himself before the herb kicked in. Masturbating and hallucinating at the same time might not make for the most pleasant of orgasms. Besides, once it began there was a good chance Cullen might come to find him, seeking information and reassurance about what was happening. Alistair would have to do his best in making the experience less frightening for the man, which might end up a chore.

He crept back up into his tower, and locked the door behind him. His hand went to his crotch, adjusting the rigid member into a more comfortable position before beginning to unlace his breeches.

“Maker’s breath,” he laughed as he shook his head. His cock had gone from comatose to urgently aroused in what felt like mere seconds. He couldn’t help the moan that escaped his throat when he squeezed at it, reacquainting himself with his own touch. It made him wonder why he always waited so long between wanks. It was like he forgot that he could make himself feel that way. When he was a teen he’d relieve himself sometimes multiple times per day, or whenever he could manage to get privacy from the chantry sisters. But he was no longer that young man. He had a mind full of constant worries, and that clock ticking over his head… eleven years were gone from the thirty that Duncan said he had left, and already he was hearing the calling. They were _all_ hearing the calling. It didn’t make any sense.

Alistair shook the thoughts away. It wasn’t difficult to do, with the sensations swarming his body as his hand finally touched his bare cock. He bucked into his palm, his hips filling with a sweet warmth that traveled deep into his belly. Maker, he couldn’t remember the last time it had felt so instantly, intensely _good._ Padding across the room to his bed, he dropped down onto his back, one hand remaining on his cock while the other reached for the bedside table. He had a small bottle of oil tucked inside the drawer, one that he usually used to aid such matters, but it hadn’t been opened in longer than he could remember. He was pleased to discover that the bottle was full. He must have refilled it after his last use, and simply forgotten.

He poured a thin coating over his fingers, which he immediately brought to his throbbing cock. He groaned as he spread the oil over his length, his palms and fingers gliding over the taut skin and pressing into the rigid rod beneath, reaching down to cup his tightened balls. The sensations coursing through him were overwhelmingly good, blotting out the quiet song in the back of his mind, erasing his worries from his awareness. Every cell in his body seemed concentrated on the sensations coursing out from his hips, and it was disappointingly quickly that he felt himself rising, swelling up the crest of a shuddering orgasm.

Alistair heard sounds from his throat as it happened. It seemed only a minute from the time he’d found his bottle of oil until he was crashing against a wave of bodily pleasure, but he welcomed it, giving himself over to the wave entirely and riding it into oblivion. His room fell away as the energies within him converged, tingling up the walls of his chest until he was curled and quivering, warm liquid spilling out of him and disappearing somewhere up onto his tunic. He realized as the storm began to subside that the distant creaking he’d heard were his own hips on his bed, bucking into his hand. It was enough to make him laugh.

Maker’s breath, it usually never happened like that. So intense, and so fast? It must have been much longer than he thought since the last time he’d come.

He fisted his cockhead gently as he waited for his cock to go soft. It still felt so good, as though a thread of his orgasm was still vibrating inside his body. He shrugged and took a deep breath, letting his hand drift up and down in slow strokes, teasing out shivers of sweetness that made his hair stand on end. The hypersensitivity that usually occurred shortly after an orgasm didn’t even seem to be developing. He was sure it would happen soon, and then it would grow uncomfortable to keep touching himself. At least until the requisite rest period had passed. But, Maker, not only had it been quick, it had been unusually intense. And his touch now, though languorous and light, still only felt good. Good enough that it almost seemed as though he might be able to come again.

He shook his head, peering down toward the member protruding proudly from his belly. It was still as erect as it could be, with no detectable softening. He tested it with a more firm touch, and found only a new peal of pleasure shooting up his belly. He threw his head back and closed his eyes. Could he possibly get two out of this session? And in the space of only a couple minutes?

With a firmer grip he began stroking again, long and cautious, a little surprised that he was registering no discomfort. Instead his hips instinctively began to move, building into a new, slow rhythm. He groaned, a low rumble inside a heavy breath that seemed to originate from somewhere deep inside him. He squeezed a little harder, drawing his hand tightly up from the base of his shaft, until the ridge of his head disappeared into his fist. No, still no discomfort.

Well, he thought to himself, might as well take advantage while it lasts.

 

For the second time around, he deliberately took his time. With that initial urgency satiated, he was able to focus beyond the demands of just his cock and savor each wave of sweetness, letting the warmth bloom out to the furthest reaches of his body while his mind wandered. He conjured up a fantasy of a woman — the same fantasy he always had in his private moments. His dream woman wasn’t faceless exactly, but she wasn’t someone he knew yet, and she was certainly more than just bountiful breasts and warm, welcoming thighs. She was also deep, lingering kisses and a tenderness born of a soul-level connection. Like all men he regularly desired a pure, lusty _fuck_ , but the thought of something more than just an empty, physical romp was infinitely more enticing. It was the dream that helped to lull him to sleep once his head hit his pillow at night.

She would be beautiful and kind, funny and affectionate. But mostly, she would _love_ him.

His mind wandered to the activities he’d indulge in with her, whenever it was in his nebulous future that they found each other. He’d kiss her until she begged for more, and then bury his face between her pillowy breasts, paying special attention to her nipples, alternating between firm pinches, and caresses so light it would make her shudder. He would suckle every inch of her skin from her breasts to her hips, and then spend every possible moment between her legs, exploring her mysteries with his lips, his tongue, drinking in every drop of her nectar until she writhed and squirmed beneath him.

“Mmmmm,” he moaned as he felt himself close to coming again. It was always at that point that he lost control of himself, when he was buried deep between the thighs of his imaginary love, tasting her, pushing his tongue deep inside her, suckling on her pearl until she began to cry out. He’d always hoped she’d be a screamer. There was little in this life that sounded better than a beautiful lover crying out in pleasure.

A second orgasm jolted through him, stiffening his back and making him groan with an unexpected force. He followed the urging of his body and increased his speed, his fist pounding against his cock as he gasped and panted, keeping the vision held fast in his mind of a luscious female body, arched and lost to the throes of sex while he suckled at her satiny folds.

“ _Fuck…”_ he gasped helplessly. The waves of pleasure just kept coming, each more powerful than the last, until he was practically sitting upright, his toes curled, his hand working furiously on his shaft while the other squeezed and pulled at his bollocks. A new spurt of warm spend sprayed up onto his tunic, but he was too lost to care. He obeyed the needs of his body, giving the orgasm what it demanded of him until finally it seemed to be beginning to subside.

  


He fell back onto the bed to catch his breath. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d come so hard. It was as though his cock had a mind of its own. As he waited, his heart pounding in his ears, his body continued to sing with stimulation. The arousal seemed to stretch beyond the bounds of his cock, extending out to infect every cell. He flopped onto his stomach and buried his head in his pillow, thinking again of his dream woman. If only she were real, if only she were here, he’d be losing himself in her arms, digging his face into her neck, filling his mouth with her bosom, with her delicious softness. Maker, he needed to be _touched._ His flesh felt inflamed, burning with the need for another body against him.

And his cock… it still seemed to be going. Alistair humped forward into his bed, grinding himself against his blanket and feeling only the need for _more…_

 

Alistair froze as his mind connected to something deep in his memory, a thread of knowledge that sent a cold chill over his back. He rolled over and sat up, heart still blaring mercilessly in his ears.

The herb, that familiar flavor in the ale. He knew it what it was. Shit, and that meant _Cullen…_

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Urgent and forceful, it waited only a moment before coming a second time. Alistair stood, his hand wrapping around his insistent cock. It stood out like a beacon from the flaps of his breeches, feeling the need still pulsing there, thrumming unignorably, beckoning him to continue to stroke, to seek that third orgasm that was promised by the fire in his blood.

Yes, this was precisely what it was. An herb he’d taken once, not at the offering of Morrigan, but one that Zevran had said would deliver an unforgettable night at the brothel. He’d experienced this very thing, this… unnatural desire coupled with a ceaseless endurance, but then at least he knew to expect it. Zevran had been urging him to enjoy himself with the ladies at the Denerim brothel, but Alistair couldn’t bring himself to do it. Zevran had sent one to his room, and Alistair refused to open the door. He’d stayed holed up alone in his room at the Pearl until he rubbed himself raw. And then, unable to touch himself further, but still rigid and aching, he drank until he passed out.

He’d nearly punched Zev in the face the next morning. He and Aeden came down from their shared quarters with purple bags under their eyes and a smirk on their faces that didn’t leave the entire day. Clearly they had enjoyed their strange aphrodisiac. Of course they would. Maker, to know _this_ with a real lover, another person who truly wanted you back, and not just wanting your money and to do a job…

Alistair had lied about letting the prostitute into his room, pretending that he’d had just as good as night as they. He didn’t need the embarrassment that the truth would bring. In reality he’d rubbed himself so raw that his cock sported a nasty blister, and he could hardly touch himself for a week.

 

And here he was, drugged again by another sneaky little elf.

 

Alistair pressed his engorged shaft back against his belly, closing the flaps of his breeches around it. He was two steps from the rattling door when his mind finally registered the spray of seed scattered over his tunic. He eyed it with shock, questioning quietly how he could possibly have produced such a large quantity. Too much to simply be wiped off.

Cullen continued to bang hard at the door, and Alistair heard his name being called on the other side. Cullen still sounded angry.

Not knowing what else to do, he pulled the tunic over his head and tossed it hastily into a corner before flipping the latch and pulling the door open.

Cullen’s eyes traveled over Alistair’s exposed torso for only heartbeat before the man was brushing past him, letting himself into Alistair’s quarters without waiting for an invitation.

 

“What is happening to me!?” Cullen demanded, his cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink. Alistair closed the door behind him and turned to face Cullen fully. The man was pacing, his hands reaching toward the impressively large bulge in his own breeches, but twitching as though it was taking every ounce of self-control not to actually make contact. Alistair could sympathize. He could hardly clear his head to answer the question. A new song was playing in his mind now, and it was not one that belonged to some otherworldly demon, but one that belonged to a piece of his own body.

Cullen’s eyes were black, darting around the room, landing for a long moment on Alistair’s chest again before breaking away with a wince.

“It’s the herb,” Alistair answered. Maker, he could still feel the pleasure coursing through him, the siren call of another orgasm that was demanding his focus.

“It’s…” he stopped a moment, bracing himself on his table with one hand. It required considerable strength not to touch the aching organ that was straining against his breeches. “It’s an aphrodisiac. Zevra— er, an old friend who was raised in a brothel had it. It was…” he had to stop again. For some reason is eyes were following Cullen’s buttocks as he circled the room like a beast locked in a cage. The room seemed to quickly be warming up. Even with his tunic gone, he felt a sheen of sweat collecting along his spine.

“They used it on the wealthy customers at the brothel to… to make them stay as long as possible. Increase profits. But this must have been a very high dose…”

Cullen snorted and rubbed at the back of his neck.

“How do we stop it?” he demanded. There was a throaty note to his voice as it rose. He seemed precariously close to losing control. Alistair had to turn away from Cullen for a moment, and press his palm against his cock. The low moan he let out was involuntary. Maker, he needed to _fuck._

It seemed absurd. Surreal, even. To have gone from yet another boring day to… _this._

 _“_ I don’t know,” Alistair answered as he turned around, finding Cullen’s eyes flitting away nervously, as though he’d just been caught. But Cullen couldn’t help it of course. It seemed the affect of the herb was getting stronger, only growing worse the longer he went without seeking more release.

“You don’t know!?” Cullen cried, incredulous.

Alistair shook his head sheepishly, and tried to think.

“Is there a… an herbalist here? We could go…” he stopped and turned around again, letting his hand grab and squeeze at his crotch before continuing. It relieved nothing, only made him want more. “… see if there is an antidote?”

“Herbalist?” repeated Cullen. Alistair turned to see him bent over the bed, his own hand pressed against his erection. Alistair couldn’t help but notice how tight his pants were. His cock twitched at the graceful curve of Cullen’s buttocks. He’d never looked at a man’s ass like that before. Alistair squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the thought. No, this wasn’t going to do. Cullen either needed to leave so Alistair could take care of himself again, or they needed an antidote immediately.

Cullen turned and stumbled toward the door, pushing a palm against the wooden frame and resting there for a moment. He clamped his other hand between his thighs. It was hardly a dignified position to be stuck in. After another breath he staggered upright and put his hand upon the latch, but then stopped. Alistair waited, his skin blazing. He was running his hands up in his arms, scraping over his shoulders and squeezing at the back of his neck.

 _Fuck,_ it was his own hands, but being touched felt so good.

“I don’t think I can go out there,” Cullen gasped. “I almost tackled three different women on my way here… I’m… this is… this is not the kind of man I am.”

Alistair nodded. “Do you know where the herbalist might be right now? If we can find her quickly…”

He shook his head.

“No idea,” Cullen lowered his head, and pushed off the door. He began walking in circles again. Alistair couldn’t help but notice how positively feline his movements were.

“Alistair,” he said quietly, the desperation in his voice audible, “ I don’t trust myself to go out there. What if we can’t find her? I can’t wander around Skyhold _like this._ What if when we do find her, I can’t keep this under control? I’m hardly… I can barely… ”

Cullen let out what sounded like a growl and turned away from Alistair. Alistair averted his eyes. Cullen’s breathing changed for a moment, and he let out a long hiss. Alistair’s cock twitched again at the sound. He couldn’t help himself. Sliding his hand down the waist of his breeches, he grasped his own cock. It was throbbing, weeping fluid. He gasped at the lightning bolt of pleasure that shot up him at the contact. Alistair leaned into it for a moment, sighing at the sting of sweetness that came over him. He pulled away and cast his eyes over his shoulder. Cullen still had his back turned, his hands in front of him. Alistair looked away quickly again. Well if Cullen was going to…

He kept a tight grip on his cock, feeling the need aching under his skin. He stroked himself, long, firm strokes, trying to keep the cries that wanted to escape his throat quiet, tried to keep his breathing steady. But Cullen… Cullen ‘s breaths were jagged, sharp. Alistair tried not to listen. Tried not to think of another body pressed up against his, of warm hands dragging over his bare skin. Did it really matter to whom they belonged just then?

No, he couldn’t think of such a thing. But his still slick cock was responding to his touch, and certainly didn’t seem to mind the thoughts creeping into his mind. He shook away the image of Cullen’s shapely ass and tried to conjure up his woman again. Her skin bare and smooth, soft and eager under his touch, her lips parted, hungry….

A cry from Alistair’s throat broke the fantasy. Maker, what must Cullen be thinking? Just because he was turned away didn’t mean he was over there, full on pleasuring himself, was he?

But if he was feeling the same things Alistair was feeling… and surely he was…

Alistair sighed, pulling his hand out of his breeches. He could feel his racing heartbeat pulsing into his cock. It was so full it felt like it could burst on its own. Just another touch or two, or maybe pressing it into something… a quick hump or two…

The effort it was taking not to kick his breeches to the floor was agonizing.

“Why would Sera do this?” Alistair asked, keeping his back turned. A drop of sweat crawled down his back.

“She…” Cullen gasped and then cleared his throat. Alistair heard his weight shift and and then go still. “She told me last week she thought I needed a shag. That it might help remove the stick from my…”

He paused, and Alistair heard him resume his pacing. Turning tentatively he positioned his hand over the long ridge in the crotch of his breeches, attempting to sheild Cullen from the sight of the small drop of wetness was collecting at the tip. He tried not to look at Cullen’s bulge, but it was cut so sharply out of those black pants. It took only a split second to register its immense thickness, to see the well defined ridge at its head. He’d certainly adjusted it, but it didn’t appear as though he’d opened his breeches. Alistair shook his head as he waited for Cullen to continue. He shouldn’t be thinking about such a thing. Maker, was the need this strong back at the brothel? Zevran had only given him a pinch then. This Sera clearly used more than that.

“She went on about…” he continued then paused, stopping to turn his back to Alistair again. Alistair closed his eyes to stop them from wandering down Cullen’s body.

“Is it…?” Cullen gasped. “It’s so bloody hot in here.”

Alistair was quiet, concentrating on keeping his hand out of his breeches. If only he could come again, it seemed. Perhaps just one more might relieve him. And it wouldn’t take long. He should just turn around and…

Cullen looked up at him quickly. “Actually she mentioned you too. Something about a following we have… women who…” Cullen growled as his steps got more forceful, continuing their loop around the room. Cullen’s brow was shiny, the pink in his cheeks having spread down his neck. “Women who needed to be put out of their misery…”

Alistair almost moaned at the thought. A woman, soft, supple and voluptuous. It didn’t have to be his dream woman did it? Did it matter who it was at all?

Alistair shivered at the thought. Skin against his skin. A mouth… hands, soft thighs…. He let out a long breath. He would accept nearly any woman in his state. He supposed that maybe wouldn’t be so bad if that woman wanted it too…

“Well, maybe we should go find a few of them?” Alistair asked tentatively.

“No!” Cullen barked. “Well, you do whatever you please. But I will not take advantage of someone like that,” he said. “And just think of the mess. The next day you’ll have to break her heart… and people will talk… I'll never hear the end of it. You might be able to get away when you all rush off to the Western Approach in a few days, but I have to _live_ here.”

Cullen sighed and wiped the sweat from his brow. He slipped off his pauldron, dropping it in a heap beside the bed. 

“If you want to go take your chances out there, fine. But that is a headache that I don’t need,” Cullen said, pulling at the throat of his metal chest plate.

“So, you’ve had this stuff before then?” he asked, his eyes meeting Alistair’s for what felt like the first time since he’d entered. Alistair felt heat rising up his own cheeks, and that heat seemed to be directly connected to his cock. He nodded.

“How long did it last? Did you have someone to… _help_ you?”

Alistair shrugged and stepped into the middle of the floor. Pacing did seem to do something… it at least moved his thighs together, helped his breeches to rub against… he stopped, and grimaced at the insistence of the member in his pants. He blinked hard and tried to collect his thoughts again.

“I don’t know. I… took care of myself until I couldn’t anymore and then drank myself into a stupor.”

Cullen glanced around the room, his eyes landing on the small collection of liquor bottles on the bureau.

“Maybe at least if we… do _that,_ and wait. It might get easier. Maybe… in a little while it’ll be safe…”

Cullen looked around while Alistair eyed the width of the man’s shoulders, his eyes somehow finding themselves back at the perfectly lined bulge. He almost laughed at himself. This was absurd. He didn’t like men!

But then, he realized, a dog on the verge of starving to death isn’t going to turn up his nose at a ham steak, just because he normally prefers beef.

“You don’t have a washroom I can go into? A closet?”

Alistair shook his head. He hadn’t chosen where the Inquisition was going to set up his quarters. There was a shared washroom in the next tower over, though he had a basin and water cask and pretty much everything else he needed in this one small room.

“Fuck,” Cullen gasped, the pinkness of his cheeks deepening. “I”m sorry, I can’t…” he said as he turned, his hand flying to the buttons above his crotch. “I can’t…”

Alistair didn’t need to let him finish. He turned around too, walking back to his own little corner of the room and pulled his breeches open with shaky fingers. His cock, surging with need, pushed its way out even before he was done with the laces. He grasped it like a lifeline, Cullen’s suggestion quickly falling away. They didn’t have a choice in the matter really. Cullen had come hoping for a solution, and this unnatural arousal was spreading like an infection, only getting stronger with each passing minute. Alistair couldn’t wait either, he _needed_ to come. With one hand he got to work on his cock, pulling and stroking, a slave to the needs of his body. The other hand pressed against his belly and dragged up his chest. If there was no one else who would touch him, then damned right he was going to touch himself. Hopefully Cullen wasn’t watching, wasn’t seeing his free hand roam as though he were being caressed by a lover.

But no, he couldn’t be watching. There were sounds behind him, sounds of heavy fabric, and then metal dropping to the floor, sounds of a whimpering, of frantic movement, a desperate, muffled gasping that Alistair tried to block out. But, fuck, it sounded like _sex_. It sounded like pleasure. He couldn’t help it, that irresistible, orgasmic sweetness was crawling up his body again, warming his belly and pushing him to the brink of sensation. Mixed with the sounds behind him, the sounds of another person feeling what he was feeling... it was only propelling him closer to the edge. He heard grunts, heard his own moans, drawn desperate and high. And then the sweetness blossomed again, filling his body with an agonizing lightness, pouring out from his cock and sending him soaring on a wave of sensation. He cried out as he pumped spurt after spurt of seed from his cock, not caring where it landed, his voice joined by another, their desperate keening filling the room. It was electric, the most powerful orgasm yet, doubled in the knowledge that it was happening in tandem with another, another body as urgently in need as he was.

It was over quickly, and the room only felt hotter than ever.

The sudden silence in the room was deafening, punctuated only by the rise and fall of heavy breathing. Alistair felt better for a moment, his mind cleared though he knew it would only be a brief window of lucidity. He shoved his still hard cock into his breeches again and held them closed, while he turned around and walked quickly to the bureau. With one hand containing his manhood, he reached out for the bottle of rum, pulling the stopper loose and bringing the whole bottle to his mouth for a deep swig. One long drink, and then another, but the burning was barely a distraction for the need that still thrummed inside him.

 

“It’s… it’s still not going down,” Cullen gasped. “ _At all.”_

“Nope,” Alistair confirmed as the warmth in his belly spread up to his head, making him feel lighter, looser. “And it’s not going to. Not for while.”

Keeping his eyes averted while he had the self-control to do so, he approached Cullen and reached around him to offer him the bottle. Cullen took it with a nod, and downed a long swig.


	2. Chapter 2

Cullen hungrily gulped at the rum, hoping it might help to dull the blade of desire that was racking his body and slicing through his senses. He didn’t normally indulge in the hard stuff, but it was clear that a pint of ale wasn’t going to be enough to aid in this particular situation. Not only did he need to blunt the shame of how he had nearly accosted those poor women in the courtyard, but he’d just relieved himself in the company of another man. Not that it was really much of a relief. In fact the need was swelling again already, demanding his attention, even as his mind was being invaded by other, equally desperate thoughts.

He was tempted to tell Alistair to have some mercy and put on a shirt, or maybe try not to moan the way he was, but that didn’t seem fair.

 

Cullen took a deep, steadying breath and realized he’d never actually let go of his cock. A slow squeeze was rewarded with a bolt of hot sensation that forced him to stifle a moan of his own. With another gulp of the rum Cullen turned to place the bottle back onto the bureau. Out the corner of his eye was Alistair’s blurry image, hovering behind him with his bare chest sporting a hint of a sweaty shine. Was he standing so close like that because he was waiting for the rum? Could it be that he had been there the whole time…  _ watching? _

Cullen could practically feel the heat from the man’s body. The need gathering within him again combined with Alistair’s proximity, seeming only to feed those strange, invasive thoughts. Thoughts that began with the spontaneous erection as he received reports from Jim in his office. Then had been directed at those young ladies in their body-hugging dresses and tight fighting leathers. And then had changed again at the sight of Alistair’s golden, shirtless chest at the door. Flashes of doing things…  _ feeling _ things… Feeling more of what he was already feeling, just all over his body. More hands, bare skin on skin, luscious, hungry lips…

_ Maker’s breath. _

The room was already hot. It must have been all the stomping around he’d done. It had at least given all the raging energy in his body an outlet, even if it wasn’t exactly the specific outlet it was demanding. But it had gotten his blood pumping, had allowed him to hold onto a thin thread of that anger he’d felt for Sera and her tiresome pranks. That at least had been a temporary distraction.

But he regretted the stomping now. The air was thick, tinged with the subtle musk of sweaty, aroused man. The back of his neck was moist, and everything he was wearing felt tight and restrictive. His armor and heavier adornments had been shed, kicked toward the wall behind Alistair’s bed. But his linen tunic was sticking to his throat, his uniform breeches plastered tightly to his legs. Maker, if he was alone, he’d have removed every possible restraint already. But he most certainly wasn’t alone.

Why had he come to Alistair’s room again?

Right. He’d hoped Alistair might have a solution.

But apparently the only solution was to address the immediate need and hope that at some point, something changed.

He sighed as his hand tightened again, resuming its work on his aching cock. He swallowed hard to try to keep himself quiet. If it was going to feel like this every time, like a dam constantly on the verge of bursting open, this was going to be a very long night. He could only hope that the intensity might recede eventually, might give them some reprieve long enough to venture out of the tower without feeling like an enraged beast that has just broken his chains.

“Here,” came Alistair’s voice. Something warm and thick was resting against Cullen’s upper arm. He closed his eyes as the feeling of being touched singed over his nerves. It was a shock, how something so simple felt so fucking  _ good.  _ Cullen looked down. Alistair’s forearm rested against his bicep, a shiny item clutched in his hand.

It was a bottle, much smaller than any of the liquor bottles on the bureau.

“You’ll get sore without it. Trust me,” Alistair added.

Cullen took the bottle, and immediately almost dropped it. It was oil, and Alistair’s hands were already coated with it, leaving a slippery patina on the bottle itself. He caught it just in time.

 

The groan that left his throat as he applied the oil to his cock couldn’t be helped. Behind him, a sharp intake of breath and the obscene sound of wet movement. He added more, slicking himself up from the tip of his cock to his balls, squeezing and kneading, spreading the warm ache of pleasure with every gliding touch. He turned to offer the bottle back to Alistair, some small part of him hoping that their skin might make contact again.

Alistair was preoccupied. A full glance over his shoulder showed a new image. Alistair had turned away, both his hands in front of him and working furiously, his bulky triceps flexing with the effort. But Alistair’s back was a vision of its own… glistening and broad, tapering down to slim hips that sported two perfect little dimples. The waist of his breeches hung loose and low, revealing the cleavage of the tops of two round asscheeks.

Cullen’s mouth went dry as he watched a drop of sweat slowly crawl down that muscular back, slipping around curves and indentions, passing between his dimples and angling straight for that alluring crevice…

 

Suddenly Cullen was coming. He squeezed his cock and pounded, the oil aiding his movements with a new deliciousness, causing the explosion of sensation to shudder almost unbearably through his hips and out to the tip of his shaft. He tried to wrench his eyes away from Alistair, but that asscrack looked so similar to a pair of breasts; soft and forbidden, supple and enticing. A perfect place to bury his face, or to cradle a stiff cock. The image seemed to feed directly into the sweetness taking his body by storm, magnifying the urgency of his orgasm. His gasps turned to whimpering as his body crested with an ecstasy so intense it seemed to sting. He dropped the bottle back onto the bureau and grabbed himself with both hands, closing around them like a vise, guiding the final crescendo of his body as his spend began to spray. He turned back to face the wall and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to turn the image in his head of Alistair’s ass into breasts. But the reality of what he’d seen remained. Loose, low breeches over satiny smooth skin. Hips clenching, rocking as Alistair bucked toward his own ecstasy. And those dimples…

_ “Fuck…” _ Cullen hissed. His cock spasmed blissfully as the last drops of come spurted over his hand.

 

He was panting, drinking in the warm air of the room, waiting for the starbursts in his vision to dissipate. An anxious flutter skitted through his stomach. He’d never had such thoughts like that before, about a  _ man.  _ But Maker, everything about that orgasm had felt so impossibly good.

Still, his body seemed to be quietly promising him that it could be even better. He felt his nipples pulled into tight points, buzzing with the need to be touched. Shivers traveled in light rushes over his skin, pulling his hairs to attention. Every inch of his body felt awake, thrumming like a live wire. If only there was another body against his, exploring fingers, nipping teeth and a flickering tongue…

Cullen sighed heavily and fought the urge to look over his shoulder again, to see where Alistair was and what he was doing. If his back was still turned. If his breeches might have slipped…

“Fuck!” Alistair exclaimed, but the tone wasn’t one of desperation. It was one of surprise.

 

The bottle of oil was on its side on the bureau, a shiny pool of liquid beginning to stream down the front of the drawers. Alistair sprinted forward, releasing the hold he had on his breeches trying to cup up the escaping oil.

“Fuck… we’re going to need this.”Alistair cried. “Damn it.” Cullen was stunned into place for a long moment. The unlaced flaps and sudden frenzy had caused Alistair’s breeches to fall completely down his legs, baring the entirety of his flawless ass. Cullen swallowed hard as he came forward to help, his gaze taking in the perfectly round heft of Alistair’s cheeks, the shadow of his bollocks in between his thighs. And the rather long, swinging appendage at the front.

Cullen averted his eyes, and turned the bottle upright. He looked around the room for something to catch the oil. A glass or a plate. Rushing over to a small table in the far corner of the room, he retrieved an emptied glass that smelled like rum, and rushed it back to Alistair, each step reminding him that his own cock was standing firmly out from his own breeches. Alistair’s eyes had flickered toward him, and then downward for one brief, deliberate moment, and then away again.

“Shit,” Alistair hissed.

“Are we really going to need this much, anyway?” Cullen asked. “I mean… the bottle still has some in it.”

Alistair snorted and shook his head.

“If this is anything like the last time I had this stuff, this is going to last all night,” he smirked. “And I’m certain I didn’t have nearly as much of the herb then.”

Cullen frowned. The siren call of his body was tugging at his mind, but he steeled himself into focus.

“All night? Maker’s breath,” he sighed.

With the stream of dripping oil starting to slow, Cullen cupped his hand around the back of the pool on the top of the bureau, trying to pull the collection toward the waiting glass below the edge. He hadn’t realized until mid-motion that his hand was quivering, his muscles still trying to uncoil from the frenzy they’d just endured. Oil spilled uncontrolled over the edge at Cullen’s clumsy urging, dripping around the glass, hitting Alistair’s hand and soaking the sleeve of Cullen’s tunic. He pulled back in alarm, inadvertently spreading the mess further, splattering it toward him and Alistair. He felt heavy drops land on his chest, sticking circles of linen to his chest. He sighed again and massaged at his wrist. The ferocity with which he’d wanked seemed to have overtaxed his muscles. At this rate, he’d start cramping soon.

The absurdity of the situation made him laugh, even as his eyes flitted down to Alistair’s cock again. Weighty and longer than Cullen’s, but not as thick, its head was pink and bulging, the skin pulled tight as it bobbed in time with Alistair’s heartbeat. Cullen felt his own cock stiffen further and shook his head. Everything was so strange. He’d never,  _ never  _ been tempted to look at a man that way before. The herb seemed to have been working on his mind just as effectively as it was his body.

Alistair took a glistening hand down to his cock and began to rub himself, distributing the spilled oil onto his cock. Cullen was painfully aware of every movement, every breath Alistair took as he responded to his own touch. Cullen’s hand twitched to make contact with himself again, and he felt his body swaying toward Alistair, magnetized to his golden expanse of blazing skin.

“You’ve got oil all over you,” Alistair pointed out quietly. Cullen snapped out of his daze and glanced down to his shirt. He could hardly tell the oil from the wet swaths of sweat.

In a swift move he pulled the sticky fabric over his head and off his body, grateful to finally be rid of the clinging tunic. Alistair’s breeches still lay in a pile around his feet, and he didn’t particularly seem to care. Cullen was tempted to remove his next. The tight uniform fabric had little give, despite how he’d complained to the seamstress that it would inhibit his movement in battle. But he wasn’t sure how Alistair would respond to his stripping naked. It was possible Alistair was simply too distracted to notice he’d lost his own breeches.

Cullen couldn’t help but notice how Alistair’s eyes went glassy as they took in his newly exposed torso. Alistair’s hand continued to move over his cock, even as his gaze dipped lower, stopping at the aching cock that protruded from his nest of blond curls.

Maker’s breath, Alistair was so close now. Cullen could feel the puffs of hot breath hit his chest, could see the darkening of Alistair’s eyes as his hand worked over his cock, pulling, tugging, sliding up and down his considerable length. He could see the sensation building, in the way his chest curled inward with each breath, the way he chewed his lower lip as his forearms flexed with his movement. He seemed to have gone into a daze and was merely standing there, pleasuring himself as he looked at Cullen. It sent a thrill of shivers down Cullen’s spine that gathered into a torrent and landed forcefully upon his cock. Cullen wanted to touch himself too,  _ needed to _ . Maker this herb was relentless, completely without mercy.

The things he was thinking… he could only imagine Alistair was thinking something similar. How else he could stand so close to Cullen and look at him like that? Cullen could hardly process his own impulse to move closer, to reach out and touch the man before him.

Would Alistair want that? If he was experiencing even half of what Cullen was, and his cock confirmed that he was, then he’d probably have that same tingling need, a raging desire consuming not just his cock, but his whole body.

But no, he shouldn’t give in to this evil herb, this concoction that was apparently a product directly from the loins of a lust demon. Thought admittedly he already had. He’d come twice, and  _ hard. _ And despite how uneasy it made him feel not to have any control over his own impulses, the pleasure he’d felt was unimaginable.

Cullen gasped for air again. Fighting the current of his body was taking every ounce of strength he could muster.

His hand had returned to his own cock almost of its own volition. He squeezed each new wave of pleasure from the base of his cock to the tip, not daring to turn away from Alistair.

He let his eyes wander down, down Alistair’s lightly freckled chest, dusted with golden hairs between his pectorals, following beyond the point that thickened slightly over his abdominals and grew into a thin but distinct trail before they merged with the blond curls around his crotch.

Cullen’s realized that his mouth was watering. He hadn’t noticed until that moment just how good Alistair smelled.

The realization sent him reeling, his cock bucking into his hand as he squeezed tighter and stroked. For a moment he felt outside himself, looking down upon a vision of his own shirtless body stroking himself into oblivion only a few feet away from another man doing the same. It seemed stupid that they might hold back, when here they both stood, stuck together in a tower just feet away from a bed, and both suffering the same cruel affliction, the same all-consuming  _ need. _

But a burn of nerves fired up in his gut. He’d never done such a thing before. Never touched another man with the intention of… he didn’t even know. What, just to touch? To kiss? To fuck? He could hardly make a coherent proposition to a woman, not that he really ever had a true desire to bed a woman he cared nothing for. His focus was generally tightly controlled, kept locked onto matters of business and war, and, on those rare occasions, turned to a woman who warmed his heart just as much as she warmed his loins.

But still he couldn’t deny that his body had a craving, one that the man before him shared. And it was growing increasingly clear that their own hands alone was not going to sate it.

Cullen shook his head and looked away from Alistair, but it did not to dampen the pull he was feeling toward Alistair’s body. He even, somewhere back in a quiet corner of his mind, began to realize that he was  _ enjoying  _ how Alistair was looking at him. Brazen and lusty, it was as though he truly couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so urgently desired.

This was probably all the fault of the rum. This was why he usually avoided the hard stuff. His mind wandered too far when he was liquored up. It went back to Kirkwall, to Kinloch Hold, to things he’d never wanted to see but now couldn’t seem to scrub completely from his memory.

And now, it was giving him impulses the likes of which he’d never had.

And it was even making him think he might not want to fight them.

 

Cullen grabbed the bottle of rum again, and threw back a long drink. He wanted the voice in his mind quiet. His body was louder than his logic, and it was only confusing him, drawing him in circles. He wanted, but he shouldn’t, but he only shouldn’t because he’d never? They were stuck here anyway, and, fuck, he wanted, wanted,  _ needed _ …. Something.  _ Anything. _ And apparently so did Alistair.

If the rum didn’t drown his brain’s arguments, at the very least it might eventually render his body unconscious and free from this infernal craving.

He took a last gulp, not knowing how much of the bottle he’d emptied but feeling as though it must have been a significant amount. His stomach felt full of the fiery liquid, sending tendrils of a warm numbness out to his limbs and up toward his head. He turned to set the bottle back down, but the oil in his palm was thick. He reacted as soon as he felt the bottle begin to slip from his grip, bringing up his other hand, but neither finding purchase on the slippery glass.

Alistair lunged forward. Cullen felt his heat, felt hot palms and sliding skin, hands supporting his arms and helping him regain control of the falling bottle. He was standing close now, his bare thigh brushing against Cullen, his heat radiating off his chest like a furnace. Alistair took the bottle from Cullen’s hand and began to drink what rum remained. He had a smirking glint in his eye as he tilted his head back. Cullen watched his adam’s apple bob with each swallow, nearly emptying the bottle.

They laughed quietly together, with Cullen standing at the ready while Alistair lowered the oil coated bottle himself. He was perched on edge, ready to touch him, to support his arms, to slide his hands over Alistair’s.

Cullen’s heart was pounding mercilessly against his chest.

Fuck. He did… he  _ wanted Alistair’s touch. _

The rum was working.

His body felt loose, almost giddy, even as his cock was pulsing away, aching for more hands-on attention, and that little voice in the back of his mind was whispering that he might not have to try to satisfy the demands of his lust by himself. He was studying Alistair’s face now, noticing his full, pouty lips. The sharp, masculine cut of his jaw, the laughing warmth in his amber eyes. He certainly wasn’t a bad looking man. And that enticing scent of his… it was unfair.

Cullen’s gaze slipped down Alistair’s neck, to his collar bones, his broad shoulders.

It was then that he noticed the splashes of rum upon Alistair’s chest.

Without thinking Cullen picked his shirt back up and began dabbing at the dripping liquid, cleaning up the mess the rum had made. Alistair’s reaction was immediate and startling, slowing Cullen’s movements. Alistair closed his eyes, his lips parting, taking in another jagged breath. Cullen drunkenly registered that one of Alistair’s hands was roving downward again, while the other was still brushing against Cullen’s forearm.

The contact was excruciating, fanning the already uncontrollable flames of need. Feeling slightly bolder, Cullen caressed the shirt against Alistair’s chest again, tracing the lines of his muscles, drifting along down his moistened belly, soaking up the sheen of sweat collecting at his navel. Alistair’s body seemed to be coiling tighter and tighter, drifting closer to Cullen’s with each quivering breath. Cullen was afraid to breathe as Alistair began to whimper, to moan wantonly as his hand worked furiously at his cock, each titillating sound coinciding with a new trajectory of Cullen’s wandering hand.

Cullen’s argumentative mind was silent, but his eyes took in the truth of the matter. Alistair wanted his touch too.

What could it hurt? It was consensual. It was just the two of them. No one else had to know.

 

Cullen dropped the shirt, and let his bare hand land on Alistair’s chest. He dragged it down the tensing muscles while his other hand found his own throbbing cock, tuning into the closeness, the sensation of eager flesh heaving excitedly under his own fingertips. Alistair was moving closer, his head tilting down toward Cullen’s neck, his shoulder only inches away.

Closing his eyes, Cullen gave in to his impulse. He opened his mouth and kissed Alistair’s shoulder.

His skin was damp and salty, and the sounds that immediately emerged from Alistair’s throat only made him want to do more. Alistair’s hand brushed along Cullen’s arm, coming to rest on the crest of a hip. Cullen was close enough to Alistair’s cock that he could feel the disturbance of air caused by Alistair’s movements. And quickly, almost more quickly than he could comprehend, Alistair was curling forward, his body shaking, his throat erupting in a long string of lurid moans. The hand on Cullen’s hip tightened, squeezing, and Cullen’s body responded to it violently. He had no choice but to grab his own cock again, fisting over the singing head as he mouthed hot, open mouthed kisses up Alistair’s shoulder, finding his neck and suckling. Alistair’s voice vibrated through his lips and deep into him, traveling down his chest, his belly, finding his cock and filling it with a new, even more desperate need. Cullen slid his palm around Alistair’s waist, pawing at him, urging him even closer still. But soon the sounds against his lips turned choked, and fell quiet. Cullen kissed up Alistair’s neck until he found the lobe of his ear and began to suckle, the taste of Alistair, the sound of him filling every intoxicated sense.

Within seconds, he felt the soft patter of spend hitting his thigh. Shudders rocked Alistair’s body, his breath panting against his shoulder. Cullen didn’t move, afraid that Alistair might push him away now that he had finished again. His heart was racing, but the feel of Alistair’s skin beneath his palm, his chest so close, his skin against his cheek, his lips, was undeniably irresistible.

Finished, Alistair’s arms came around Cullen, pulling their bodies together until there was no air left between them. Cullen snaked his hand out from between them and grumbled an animal sound as the length of Alistair pressing hot against him stirred a feral lust. His cock was pulsing, his hips bucking against Alistair’s, their cocks caught between each other and sliding around, grinding cock against cock and cock to belly.

Fuck, it was probably the rum, but Alistair’s body felt better than anything else he could recall. His hands roved up Alistair’s back, across his shoulders, his teeth digging into a muscular shoulder, pausing as his senses were overwhelmed with the sensation of being touched in return. Alistair’s skin was like fire against his, stimulating every buzzing cell and turning his whole body into a raw, shivering nerve. Remembering the sight of Alistair’s drooping breeches, he dropped a hand down and sought a grip on one of those perfectly rounds buttocks. Cullen found it and filled his hand with a smooth, firm handful. Squeezing, he pulled Alistair’s hips harder into his own, bucking and grinding toward him, seeking more friction against his cock, more heat, more slippery flesh against flesh. He put his head up to take a breath and his mouth was caught by Alistair’s, those luscious lips moving hungrily against his own. They moaned simultaneously the moment their tongues touched. Cullen opened wide to let Alistair in, letting his body melt against the strong man holding him.

  
  


Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  
  


Alistair took a step back toward the bed while holding tight to Cullen’s waist, hoping to bring the other man’s weight down upon him, to feel their legs entwined as they collapsed into each other. Cullen moved with him for the first few steps, then stopped, resisting the pull of Alistair’s arms.

Alistair’s blood froze.

Fuck, was he moving too quickly? He hadn’t been thinking, merely letting his body dictate his actions. Time seemed lost, but they could only have been standing in each other’s arms for several minutes. It must have been too quick. Still Cullen had seemed like he wanted it too. His hands were grabbing eagerly at Alistair’s flesh, and he’d been the one to touch him first, to kiss his shoulder. He’d even sucked on his fucking ear, making him come with the force of a earthquake.

Alistair paused, pulling back to try to gage Cullen’s reaction.

“Wait, I have still have these blighted breeches….”

Alistair sighed in relief as Cullen turned around, his hands working at the waist of those tight black pants, pulling then down his hips. His back was shiny with sweat and Alistair felt instantly mesmerized by the undulation of his working muscles. He’d taken Cullen’s cue and filled his belly with rum, and it certainly had worked to simplify the whole situation. There was little argument now from his questioning inner voice, only that drunken devil on his shoulder which encouraged him to satisfy his body’s immediate needs. There was no denying those needs anyway, not with the lust that was raging through his body. Not when there was another person here who felt so fucking good, and who was helping Alistair to feel so fucking good.

All thought disappeared completely as those breeches began traveling further downward. Cullen’s ass was a golden vision, that glorious curve he’d glanced at earlier even more enticing once it was unveiled. Blond hairs covered the smooth asscheeks in a perfectly even coating, the two muscular curves giving way to powerful thighs below. As his breeches hit his ankles Cullen seemed to realize he was still wearing his boots, and he bent fully over in order to begin unlacing them. His fingers were shaking, clumsy, but moving quickly. Alistair’s attention swept the length of view, and then recentered, firmly locking onto the tight little opening visible between his asscheeks.

His mind filled quickly with old memories, memories of a girl, a fellow Warden. She’d stuck her finger inside him once while she was sucking him off in an out of the way place during a Warden gathering. Though at first he’d been confused by her move, it had resulted in one of the most intense orgasms he’d ever had. Enough that he thought about it for days afterward, trying it himself a few times during his private moments, and asking her to do it again the next time they had the chance. She’d acquiesced happily, and later had climbed into his lap and slipped his cock into her ass, riding him like a prize stallion for nearly an hour. She’d come so hard her voice echoed through the cave system, even though they were trying not to draw attention to themselves.

It had been a shame that she turned out to be such a hot head outside of bed. Whatever physical compatibility they had disappeared when they had to try to work together for other purposes.

But it was her Alistair was thinking of now, of how she’d swirl her finger around his rear entrance, working her way deep into him until he felt her hit something tender and sensitive. Alistair’s cock surged to full capacity again, his mind swimming with memories of that sensation, and now entranced by the vision before him.

_ Maker’s breath. _

Men do that to each other, he knew. They fuck, the same as that girl had that night in the cave. Other Wardens he’d known had done so with each other. Even a few boys in the chantry had done it, or at least that had been the rumor.

Might Cullen want to do it?

 

Alistair couldn’t help but pull on his cock some more, even as the muscles in his arm and hand began to throb. His arm was overworked, and he tried to slow his pace. But the sight of Cullen’s ass, open and exposed before him…  _ Fuck, _ not only did he want to touch it, have Cullen touch him, but he also wanted to use his mouth.

But then, Alistair always wanted to use his mouth. At times he wondered if he might enjoy giving a little bit more than his recipients did.

 

Soon, Cullen was naked and turning to face Alistair with dark, glinting eyes. In two steps Alistair was lost again to the intoxication of skin against skin, Cullen’s bare chest and belly pressing hard into his own, sharing heat, frantically squeezing at handfuls of Alistair’s taut flesh. Cullen’s mouth hovered close, but he wasn’t coming fully in for the kiss. On impulse, Alistair flicked out his tongue and licked Cullen’s upper lip, and finally their mouths were joined again, hot and urgent. Cullen suckled on Alistair’s tongue as a hand roamed down his belly, dragging against tingling skin and landing in the one place that seemed to be the still point in the turning world. Alistair’s cock throbbed within Cullen’s firm grip, the new hand sliding down its length slowly at first, running his fingertips along the ridge of Alistair’s cockhead. Cullen pulled his mouth away looked down, watching his own hand taking another man’s length in slow, deliberate strokes.

“I’ve never touched another man like this before,” Cullen whispered, his eyes locked on Alistair’s cock. Alistair could only moan at the heat enveloping his aching sex, at the involuntary movements of his hips as they moved with the rhythm of Cullen’s touch. He dropped his head to Cullen’s shoulder and took a deep breath of his delicious, fragrant musk. The scent made his mouth water, made his lips seek Cullen’s skin on their own, until finally they met the pulse at Cullen’s throat and began to devour, the needs of his mouth matching the hunger of his cock.

Cullen moaned, a low lurid growl that made Alistair press himself harder, belly to belly, hip to hip, trapping Cullen’s hand between them. Alistair reached both arms around to find Cullen’s ass, each cheek filling his palm with a soft, weighty heft. He kneaded and squeezed, slowly working his fingertips closer to the crack separating them. Cullen groaned and released Alistair’s cock, returning again to a slow hump of engorged shaft against engorged shaft. The sensation was overwhelming, the call of Alistair’s body drowning out his ability to think, to do anything but exist solely within his physical need, to melt into the welcome arms and flesh encircling him.

His fingertips finally found their target, running lightly up and down Cullen’s crevice, teasing out shivers that coursed through his body with such intensity that they reverberated straight through Alistair as well. Slowly, Cullen was turning him, stepping into his body and pushing him toward the bed. Alistair gratefully obeyed his direction, falling back onto the soft mattress without releasing Cullen’s ass, bringing his lover down upon him.

Cullen’s weight against Alistair’s torso was a revelation. Limbs settled around limbs, Alistair’s legs spread and welcomed Cullen deep against him, wrapping his thighs around warm, narrow hips. Again Cullen’s hand found Alistair’s cock and began to stroke, purposeful but unhurried, teasing waves of overwhelming sweetness out from his cock and sending them sizzling over his skin. Alistair spread his legs further and angled his hips, hoping to encourage Cullen closer, to touch the root of Cullen with the root of himself, to move closer, delve deeper.

“Wait,” Cullen panted. “The oil…”

Alistair was left in a cold daze as Cullen was suddenly up again, moving off the bed and turning to the bureau. His eyes followed Cullen’s sculpted physique, his deliciously thick cock achingly stiff and pink at its tip, bouncing slightly with each step he took. And, Maker, those pert cheeks. They flexed and lifted as Cullen stopped to grab up the bottle of oil off the bureau. Alistair wanted to bite them.

Nearly quicker than Alistair could take a breath again, Cullen was back on the bed, falling off to the side and leaning on an elbow, pouring a new coating of oil into his palm. He offered the same to Alistair, who was already reaching for the man without thinking. All he could see was Cullen’s bare flesh, the sensitive skin of the man’s neck, his kiss-reddened lips.

Cullen took Alistair’s cock in his newly slickened hand and began to stroke, his lips hovering close to Alistair’s but not landing.

“Unnh, that feels so fucking good,” Alistair moaned. He set the bottle back on the bedside table then slipped his hand up Cullen’s thigh, wrapping a firm grip around Cullen’s cock in return. Their bodies moved closer together as Alistair went in for another kiss. He mewled into Cullen’s mouth, hypnotized by the soft lusciousness of Cullen’s lips and exploring tongue, the erotic taste of him that only made him want more. Cullen hissed at Alistair’s touch, and almost immediately seemed on the verge of coming.

“Maker!” he cried out breathlessly, his voice a low, sultry moan that sounded like music.

Alistair bucked his hips closer, losing focus on his own grip as his breathing grew ragged, his glistening chest heaving and sounds of such sweet ecstasy coming from Cullen’s throat that Alistair tuned all his focus into increasing those beautiful sounds. He kept his hand tight as it slid the full length of Cullen’s cock, up and then down back to the base, sliding his palm over the head with a slight twist, keeping his grip firm for the whole length. Cullen’s body writhed, his free hand bruising into Alistair’s side, then slipping down to his ass and squeezing.

Finally Cullen’s whimpering seemed to reach a a fever pitch, his back arching, the desperation filling his cries so intense as to practically bring Alistair to orgasm himself. Cullen grabbed the back of Alistair’s head and mashed his mouth hard against his, his tongue demanding entry which Alistair blissfully gave. Alistair moaned and struggled to keep his focus on working Cullen’s cock, his impulse now to surrender to Cullen’s forceful kiss, to fall back and invite Cullen to have his way,  _ whatever way _ the man desired. But Cullen was coming, and the display was spectacular. Teeth bit into Alistair’s lower lip as Cullen gasped out the final spurts of his orgasm, Alistair’s hand growing warmer, wetter.

 

“Fuck,” Cullen panted, breathless.

There was stillness for only a moment, Cullen falling back against the pillow and breathing, his hips still flexing with the last pulses of orgasm. Fuck, making him come had been so fucking  _ hot. _

Alistair felt delirious, felt the desire to do things he’d never considered before. On the one hand, he wanted to be ravaged by Cullen’s body, to feel his strength in every hump of his hips, to be penetrated and  _ taken.  _ On the other hand, he wanted to taste, wanted to bring Cullen to orgasm again and again, until he called out Alistair’s name in sweet, beautiful agony.

But his hand was aching, his forearm biting with pain. He couldn’t even recall how many times he’d made himself come so far. In a frenzied, drunken thought, Alistair realized that despite the merciless urgency, despite the weariness of his hand, he was enjoying every single second of this. He couldn’t recall ever experiencing such a night of wanton passion. He felt as though he’d been coming for two hours straight, and the needs of his cock were showing no signs of waning.

_ Maker bless Sera. _

He was going to do it. He was going to take advantage of this night, of the rum still blurring out his thought, and do all the things he had any desire to do. At the very least he wouldn’t regret  _ not _ doing what he wanted the next day. Before he could lose his nerve he was sliding down Cullen’s steaming body, dragging his tongue over curves and hills, suckling and kissing on shoulders, collar bones and pectorals. He stopped a moment and nipped at Cullen’s nipple, gently at first, then increasing force, until Cullen hissed and his back arched again, his fingers tangling up in Alistair’s hair and holding him firmly. Alistair’s cock twitched at his reaction, a stream of ice-water sweetness spreading up through his belly. Further down he slid, kissing and tonguing, his hands exploring the unexpected landscape of another man’s flesh, seeming to feed his hunger with each new handful.

And then he was there. Hovering over Cullen’s cock, still pulsing and dewy, protruding stiffly over a spray of spent semen. Alistair closed his eyes and dove in, taking Cullen’s thick appendage deep into his mouth, feeling the fingers in his hair pull tighter, hearing the man’s breath increasing, erupting with a feral, uncontrolled gasp that sent shivers down Alistair’s back. He suckled the head first, letting his tongue trace the distinctive ridge, tasting the salty tang of spend still pebbling the tip, and with great surprise, actually enjoying the taste of it.

He moaned as he savored the flavor, and then pulled away and began to lap up the spend collected on Cullen’s rippling abdominals. Cullen tensed and bucked, each lash from Alistair’s tongue seeming to rock his entire body. Their energies seemed to be stuck in a tightly closed loop, each cry and arch from one spurring the other to greater heights of hunger. Alistair closed his eyes and let his mind disappear, letting the taste, the smell of Cullen wash over him and carry him into a new plane of existence where all that mattered, all that existed were the primal, base desires to fuck and be fucked. Alistair opened his throat to take his cock in again and swallowed Cullen’s thickness as deeply as he could manage, following the sounds and feel of Cullen’s reaction to increase or adapt his suction, to guide the gliding explorations of his tongue.

It didn’t seem to take long before Cullen was bucking with a new force, his hips pounding his cock deep into Alistair’s throat. The fingers in his hair gripped hard, stinging against Alistair’s scalp as they held his head firmly into place. And Cullen began to fuck, taking control of the rhythm, thrusting forcefully in and out of Alistair’s mouth. Alistair gave over control and returned a hand to his own cock, pulling on it until he was climbing a wave that threatened to devastate him, his senses drowning in the needs of the flesh, his flesh and Cullen’s, merging into one filthy, gyrating beast.

His arm was still cramping, but he couldn’t stop touching himself. The force, the grunts coming from Cullen were too erotic not to be viscerally felt by Alistair’s body. He’d surrendered before to a woman, numerous times in fact. He’d laid back and let his lover direct him, take full control of Alistair’s body with complete trust and abandon, but there was a new note of powerlessness in being handled so roughly by another man, by feeling the proof of another’s strength in the grip of his hair, of the cock plunging deep into his throat. With one hand Alistair teased himself over that cresting wave of chaotic heat, his body suspended in a state of unbearable arousal as each tug on his throbbing cock coincided with a thick cockhead hitting the back of his throat. He heard himself moan, heard muffled animal sounds as his throat was filled and pounded over and over, felt the tension in his body pulled into a thin, stinging thread that hummed and sang with a sweetness of unimaginable intensity. His free hand snaked between Cullen’s thighs, reaching up until he found the tight sac below his chin, and then delving further, touching soft curves and a moist crevice, and then further still until they located that tight ring of flesh that he felt so inexorably drawn to. Alistair suckled hungrily at the cock in his mouth, and hummed with bliss as he massaged his finger around that hole, his mind filling again with memories of fucking, of being penetrated. Cullen’s response was immediate, his cries reaching a new level, his hips bucking with increased force and velocity. Alistair’s finger, still oiled, slipped gently inside, feeling tight heat surrounding his first digit, cautiously swirling slow circles, massaging at the very limits of Cullen’s body.

When the tangy juices began to fill the back of his throat, Alistair felt his own cock spasm, joining Cullen’s in decimating his body, hammering waves of shared pleasure at their nerves while simultaneously purging their fluids.

While Cullen continued to come Alistair slipped his finger deeper, beyond one knuckle and then the next, enraptured by the silky tightness engulfing him. Fuck, he could only imagine what it would feel like if that was his cock, Cullen’s ass gripping tight and hot around his shaft, milking him of every last ounce of seed in his body. The thought was almost more than he could take, followed quickly by the thought of his own ass filled. Could it truly feel as good as his warden lover had once made it look? She’d started slow but eventually fucked with him with a blinding force, gyrating her hips and coming until she fell senseless and quivering against his chest.

He curled his finger forward the way his lover had done, pressing against a swelling on the inside of Cullen’s belly, and quickly feeling more semen spurting over the back of his throat. Gulping hungrily he drank in every drop, kissing the taut flesh that filled him until it seemed to go dry, until his own racing heartbeat subsided enough so that he could hear again. Eventually Cullen’s fingers relaxed, the tight grip on his hair changed to tender caresses. Alistair rested his forehead on Cullen’s belly, filling his lungs with air again and again, trying to regain some coherent train of thought, but it was pointless. Cullen’s hands kneaded at his shoulders, caressing around his jaw and ears, and eventually began to pull, urging Alistair to return up the bed.

 

On shaky limbs Alistair climbed up Cullen’s body, his blurry gaze taking in the blush over Cullen’s chest and cheeks, the new droplets of sweat dripping down the carved lines of his chest, making his pillow-tousled hair dark and wild. He came down on top of Cullen and felt arms close around him, burying him inside a sweaty embrace. Cullen’s mouth found Alistair’s and kissed him deeply, slowly. Alistair felt a hand close around his cock. But newly spent and ready for a rest, however brief it might be, Alistair took the hand and guided it further back, opening his legs and directing toward that forbidden place further back. He wanted to feel what it was like to be filled again. Since he’d begun to think about it, his body had registered the need too, his entrance buzzing with a curious hunger.

When Cullen’s fingertips landed on their target and pressed eagerly against it, it was like having a thousand year itch finally, blessedly scratched. 


	3. Chapter 3

The sweet, whimpering sounds from Alistair’s throat were the only thing guiding Cullen along. After Alistair had knocked all sense out of him with that blowjob, Cullen could hardly seem to form a coherent thought much less tell what it was he wanted to do next. His mind floated along in a blissful fog, his body still humming with the intensity of the orgasm he’d endured in Alistair’s hungry mouth. Cullen soaked in his otherworldly afterglow, curling himself around Alistair’s body and letting his tongue and lips lazily explore the man’s chest and throat, keeping his hand buried deep between Alistair’s legs. Alistair had an arm around his shoulders, holding Cullen tight against his body, his thighs parted and hips bucking with the slow rhythm of Cullen’s explorations. Maker’s breath Alistair was so tight down there, so warm and slick and damn if he didn’t seem to absolutely love the way he was being touched. Cullen was happy to use what focus he could manage muster on Alistair alone. After what the man had done with his mouth on Cullen’s cock, he certainly deserved whatever repayment he desired.

And what a feast for the senses it was. Alistair’s head was thrown back, exposing a long golden throat that called to Cullen’s mouth. His sultry voice was needful and uncontrolled, gentle and saturated with lust. A hand kneaded at Cullen’s shoulder, his torso caressing gently against Cullen’s with each slow buck of his hips. Cullen let himself melt into Alistair, following the melody of his whimpers and the slow grinding of his powerful body. His thighs spread wider, seeming to squirm toward Cullen’s hand in search of deeper penetration.

He couldn’t have stopped his own cock from slowly building up with need again even if he’d been ready for the night to be over. But he was far from that point, despite the exhaustion that was trying to seep into his bones. He’d lost measure of how long they’d been in there together, but it still seemed as though there should be at least half the night left. For the first time, Cullen found himself hoping that the herb was strong enough to last them until the sun rose, almost even wishing they had more of it. The spell of the aphrodisiac was one that he was becoming more and more grateful for. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d experienced such profound pleasure, both in depth and abundance, made all the more exciting by the newness of his unexpected attraction to another man.

Alistair’s flesh was so warm against his, pulsing with a velvet heat that stoked his own internal fire. And the sounds he made….  _ Maker… _

Cullen smothered his mouth over Alistair’s, sad to be dampening the man’s sweetly erotic whimpers, but needing to taste him again. He  _ had _ to taste him again, had to suckle those luscious lips and silky tongue, to feel the heat of Alistair’s breath as their bodies moved slowly together. When Alistair’s hand slid off his cock and dragged up Cullen’s back to pull him closer, Cullen gratefully relented, feeling as though even inch of distance between them was an agonizing gulf. He had to pull his finger free from Alistair’s tightness, hearing a tantalizing hiss issue from Alistair’s throat as he did so. But without the arm between them he could press himself fully against Alistair, feel that blazing expanse of skin join with his and wrap around him.

It seemed nothing he could do could get him close enough. No amount of exploring with his hands and mouth and tongue was satisfying the need for more. Cullen’s thighs slid between Alistair’s and he slowly felt himself being pulled, being angled deeper as Alistair’s arms dug into his shoulders, raking up his scalp and urging Cullen to adjust his position. He let himself be guided by Alistair’s direction and slowly settled back down, realizing breathlessly that he was between the man’s legs. Alistair’s wrapped his thighs tight around Cullen’s waist.

He needed no additional guidance to obey their body’s call. Alistair’s hips bucked upward and Cullen’s cock slipped into the crevice of Alistair’s ass as naturally as if it belonged there. Oiled up and hot, Alistair’s crevice held the length of Cullen’s cock perfectly, and immediately he began to move again, sliding long and slow upward and then down. Cullen throbbed, the oil allowing them to move freely together, still separated but so close, his cock and Alistair’s ass seeming to call to each other, to  _ need _ to be joined.

Through the thickness of his body’s spell it occurred to him that he might want to ask Alistair if he was sure. Alistair had pulled him into that position, but Cullen wasn’t sure he’d be able to control himself if he was allowed full access to that tight heat. Having his finger inside Alistair was one thing, but to actually truly _fuck_ him was to cross a line that could not be uncrossed.

Unable to pull his mouth away from Alistair’s, he tried to steel his resolve to let Alistair make the initial move. Cullen felt so perfect buried between Alistair’s hips, feeling the curves of his cheeks tense as they humped and squeezed against Cullen’s throbbing shaft. He slid a hand down Alistair’s back until it scraped over those enticing dimples, and then found a supple handful of flesh. A little deeper still and his fingers found his own cock, gliding along the tight ring of flesh. Alistair let out another whimper as Cullen massaged the the little bud, feeling his hips increase their pace, his breathing grow jagged. A soft mewl escaped Alistair’s throat as Cullen sucked on his tongue.

_ “Please,”  _ Alistair whimpered, his mouth only barely parted from Cullen’s.  _ “Please,” _ he said again.

The soft little whine traveled straight through Cullen’s belly, filling him with an almost blinding desire. Cullen gave a nod and slipped the first section of his finger inside him again, feeling his cock pulse at the perfect, silky tightness there.

“No,” Alistair sighed, his voice tinged with a need that sounded almost painful, “fuck me.”

He pulled away, his eyes opening, revealing vivid caramel irises that communicated a deep desperation. Cullen paused, his cock nearly bursting at the request. There was no way in the Void he’d be able to say no.

Alistair’s hand found Cullen’s cock, pulling it back up between his thighs and angling it toward him. Cullen’s chest collapsed against Alistair’s as his cockhead hit that little soft spot between Alistair’s cheeks, and at the urging of Alistair’s fingertips, began to press forward. The whimpers he heard now were his own as slowly Alistair’s flesh yielded to his cock, that same silky tightness even tighter now.

“ _ Please, _ ” Alistair whined again. Cullen pressed his hips closer to Alistair’s, keeping it slow and cautious, his mind suddenly lost to the explosion of stars behind his vision as the first stroke of Alistair’s ass sent the nerves inside his body reeling. Alistair hissed again when he was halfway in, squeezing at his shoulders and urging him to wait. Cullen froze, his breath coming in gulps as his cock thrummed and pulsed, his hips feeling a nearly unbearable need to begin to move, to use this delicious vise to seek greater friction.

But no, he did need to go slow. This was something he wanted to  _ last. _

Finally Alistair pulled him forward again, his body adjusted, his hips relaxing. Cullen continued into Alistair at his direction, his cock slowly encompassed by a hot, satiny heat. He gasped as he sank deeply into Alistair’s ass, the sensation spreading out from base of his cock and deep into a primal place. Finally, he was in as far as he could go, his pubic bone resting against Alistair’s perineum, two warm cheeks pressed into his hips.

Maker it was  _ glorious.  _ Slowly Alistair began to rock, one of his hands tangled into Cullen’s hair, holding his face only a breath away from his own, his other hand clutching Cullen’s ass and pulling gently, urging Cullen to follow along. He was trying to hold Alistair’s gaze, so trusting and needy, but the chorus of sensation crashing through his body was rendering him dissolute. He became nothing more than flesh and cock and lips and soul, merging with Alistair more with each slow thrust of his cock. Alistair’s whimpers began again, and the hand in Cullen’s hair pulled their mouths fully together, kissing deeply and unhurriedly, exploring the depths of the other with a slow deliberation. Cullen held onto Alistair as though he might be sucked into the ether if he let go. He realized that somewhere in the back of his mind he was saying a quiet prayer, but the prayer wasn’t one he was used to saying. Alistair  _ was _ the Maker now, his body divine and miraculous, and Cullen his devout worshipper. Nothing, but  _ nothing _ , had ever felt as perfectly heavenly as the depths into which he was plunging. He prayed for the night not to end, for the herb within him to be strong, to allow his body to withstand time and exhaustion, and perform in the way that would make Alistair cry out in ecstasy again. He moaned and sighed and held Alistair with all the strength in his arms, grinding his body hard against Alistair’s, following the indulgent rhythms of his lover.

Alistair too seemed to be increasing his urgency, his hips bucking faster, his thighs falling slack in an apparent attempt to get Cullen deeper inside him. Each stroke of his cock pushed a wanton moan from deep in this throat, until his fingers both found Cullen’s cheeks and pulled each thrust toward him with increasing force.

Cullen pulled his mouth away, wanting to  _ see,  _ to witness the source of the ecstasy he was experiencing. He pushed Alistair’s thighs open and sat upright, not surprised to see Alistair’s long cock rock solid and straight, weeping drops of fluid onto his already slicked up belly. And between those thighs the peek of asscheek, and Cullen’s thick, shiny cock disappearing in slow strokes inside him. Seeing it sent a new surge of feral desire through him, and he began to thrust harder, barely hanging onto control as his thrusts rocked against Alistair’s body.

_ “Yes,” _ Alistair whined. “Fuck yes, Cullen…. Yes….”

Cullen felt each plunge into Alistair’s welcoming heat like a bolt of lightning, searing pleasure up his shaft and deep into his hips. Warmth bloomed up his torso as and into his chest as the room filled with the increasingly urgent sounds of slapping flesh on flesh.

“Fuck yes,” Cullen growled, mesmerized by the sight of his cock disappearing again and again into Alistair’s muscular body.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Alistair warned, his eyes squeezed closed, his head thrown back. Cullen felt his ass clenching around him, squeezing and increasing the delicious friction. He grabbed Alistair’s cock, feeling it tense as his hand wrapped around it. Matching the rhythm of his own thrusts he began to pump, ignoring the bite of soreness in his arm and riding the wave of their body’s music. Quickly, Alistair’s back was arching, his body tensing, his fingertips bruising into Cullen’s waist as he urged Cullen harder and faster.

The stars behind his eyes were growing, blotting out everything before them with the rush of overwhelming pleasure quick on its heels. His own orgasm ripped through his body, pulling apart his cells and catapulting him him into the heavens above, tethered to the earth only by the cock pulsing and clenching with each roar of sensation. He struggled to remain tuned into Alistair, feeling the warmth of seed spilling over his hands as Alistair cried out in wild gasps, Alistair’s internal walls spasming and clenching with each pulse of orgasm. He rode it until every last drop of himself was emptied, flooded into Alistair with the force of a tidal wave. Even after he fell forward onto Alistair his orgasm did not end, it just reduced down to a slow stream, carrying him further out with each gentle meeting of their hips.

Still the body below him was a marvel. Alistair’s heartbeat racing furiously, just slightly out of sync with Cullen’s, his arms closed tightly around Cullen’s shoulders, his abs clenching as his ass rose up to meet each finishing throb of orgasm.

 

His vision came back to him eventually, and still he was buried deep in Alistair’s ass. He hummed an oblivious moan of contentment and squeezed himself tighter, thanking the Maker that his cock was staying stiff, allowing him to rest fully inside Alistair until it was time for the next round.

He looked up briefly in Alistair’s face. The way his lover’s hands were caressing through his hair and cradling Cullen made it clear that he was not in any way disturbed by what they’d just shared, but still Cullen had to be sure.

“You okay?” he asked Alistair. He was rewarded with a delirious laugh.

“I am… fucking  _ fantastic _ …” Alistair sighed. His voice still held the slight slur of the rum, and Cullen realized in the moment just how parched his throat was. He should probably get up and go get them a glass of water to try to replace some of the fluids they’d both spent. Aside from the all the sweating, they’d probably purged half their body weight in seed.

Cullen laughed quietly as he settled back against Alistair’s chest, letting his cheek rest on a particularly firm curve of muscle. They would rehydrate soon, but the last thing he wanted to do was leave this little cocoon of orgasmic perfection. He closed his eyes and listened to the beat of Alistair’s heart, the rush of breath in and out of his lungs. He squirmed his hips against Alistair’s, feeling the tightness clench around his still singing cock. Alistair grunted in approval and matched Cullen’s movement, seeming to spur them into more lazy, indulgent humping. Cullen tightened his arm’s around Alistair, realizing that he was completely lost to the utter bliss that he was experiencing. Fuck, he wanted more herb. He wanted more herb and more hours in the night so he could ensure this never, ever needed to end. When the sun came up and they were back in their clothes, back in their roles within the Inquisition, things would most likely be different. The spell would be broken. After all, Alistair and the Inquisitor were set to leave for the Western Approach the day after next. Even if something fundamental about them both had been changed by this night, Alistair would soon be gone.

In the meantime, Cullen had never felt more in love. Whether it was because he’d never felt such intense physical pleasure, or because of the rum or the herb, or a combination of everything, the very real glow of rapture and adoration coursing through him was very real. That Alistair would give him what he had - his whole body - seemed in that moment a gift of the highest order.

And clearly, the beautiful man below him wasn’t done giving.

 

Cullen groaned as Alistair pulled himself off Cullen’s cock, his body shifting beneath Cullen’s weight, pushing him off to the side so that Alistair could climb away. Cullen merely wanted to rest inside Alistair, to feel the warmth of his strong arms around him, and the wet, thrilling softness of their joined bodies gliding together, teasing out new threads of pleasure. But Alistair had yet to steer him wrong throughout the course of the night and his instinct now was to trust his lover. Letting himself be pushed and guided again, he found himself rolling over onto his stomach, with the warmth of Alistair’s hands dragging up the back of his thighs and landing on his own asscheeks. He felt himself be spread open, his rear entrance exposed to the world, firing up a new awareness of his own skin. It hadn’t occurred to him to offer Alistair his body in the same way. It hadn’t occurred to him to do much of anything at all besides bask in the glow of their sex, but now that he felt a stimulating buzz in his rear entrance, it seemed only right. Alistair had seemed to love having Cullen inside him, and perhaps he too would enjoy the experience of something so strange and new. It seemed this was the last boundary left to cross.

With a surrendering sigh he arched his ass outward, indicating to Alistair that he could take whatever he wanted, that Cullen’s body was as open to Alistair as Alistair’s had been to him. He’d never considered such an action before, but would now willingly give whatever it was that his new, caramel eyed Maker desired. This night had already presented pleasure unlike anything he’d ever known before. That he might think to hold back now seemed almost laughable.

The first contact didn’t come where he was expecting. Lower on his thigh came a soft touch. Warm and moist, it quickly revealed itself to be Alistair’s mouth. Lips joined tongue in an open mouthed kiss, suckling gently before slowly it began to travel higher. Teasing upward, the kiss turned into gentle nips of teeth that sparked shivers up Cullen’s legs, collecting at the base of his spine before crawling in waves of tingles up his back. Alistair’s strong grip on Cullen’s hips kept him steady, though his instinct was to arch back into his lover’s mouth as it dragged along. He took a deep breath and tried to relax his body; he wanted Alistair to take whatever pleasure he desire, no matter what that might mean. For that, Cullen needed to be loose and ready for the taking.

But Alistair was in no hurry. He mouthed at Cullen’s thighs as though he wanted to swallow him whole, lingering on the lowest curve of Cullen’s ass before biting lovingly at his cheeks. Cullen’s hips wanted to roll toward him instinctively, seeking greater contact with that stimulating source of warmth, but instead he pushed himself to release any remnants of tension in his muscles, collapsing even deeper into the pillow below him.

The first time Alistair’s mouth dipped between his thighs, it was to take Cullen’s bollocks, sucking them into the eager heat of his mouth one at a time. He spent countless seconds there, rolling Cullen’s balls around his tongue, sucking and kissing, before his sac went disappointing cold with the lack of touch.

But contact resumed higher, as Alistair’s tongue pressed flat and wide into Cullen’s perineum, dragging upward toward that buzzing new point of desire. When Alistair’s mouth closed over it, Cullen couldn’t help but release all the air he’d been holding in his lungs. Warm and tender, Alistair’s tongue began to probe, his tip pointed and firm, swirling circles around his aching entrance.

The warmth spread instantly through Cullen’s cock, thrumming with an electric stimulation that jolted him rigid again. Cullen gasped and sighed, unable to stop his back from arching, his hips from pressing back behind him. Alistair let loose a low moan as his face buried deeper and deeper, kissing into Cullen’s crevice with a startling passion.

Cullen groaned again when Alistair pulled away, his mouth replaced by fingers, caressing and exploring, pulling gently on Cullen’s cheeks, testing their softness. He pulled Cullen’s cheeks open and then pushed together, the weight of his gaze almost palpable as Alistair explored. After several long minutes, Alistair’s mouth landed upon his ass again with a renewed fervor. Cullen felt a brand new type of desire welling up within him, one that echoed the needful bliss he’d seen all over Alistair’s face when he’d begged Cullen to fuck him. It was an internal hunger, a stimulation of something deep within him that demanded to be touched. Each breath from Cullen’s throat brought with it a growl or a grumble as the craving within his body grew, promising a new sort of pleasure that required only that he open up and let Alistair in. His legs grew slack, his thighs widening as he pressed toward the source of the warmth and stimulations behind him. He need it deeper, harder. As spectacular as Alistair’s mouth was, it only fed his desire for more.

Alistair’s breaths were hot and heavy against Cullen’s ass, tinged with whimpers as his mouth worked, his tongue flicking and massaging. Cullen panted breathlessly as his body rocked back against Alistair, his arms quivering each time he shifted his weight upon them. When he rocked back onto Alistair’s face his cock surged, buzzing from within with an agonizing sweetness.

It was a tremendous relief to feel Alistair changing positions again, crawling up onto his knees and moving closer into Cullen, the front of his thighs coming to rest against the back of Cullen’s. And finally, the landing of a heavy piece of flesh onto its target. Thick and firm, Cullen was immediately bucking back against it, feeling Alistair’s rigid shaft fill the length of his aching crack. He knew now the desperation Alistair had shown before, felt in some primal place inside his body. That craving was inexorable, driving within him a need to experience something he’d never known before, to be filled and stretched, to be owned and overpowered by something more in control than himself.

Cullen glanced over his shoulder to see Alistair’s entranced face, his eyes darkened coals of lust fixed upon Cullen, sweeping from his ass and up his back with the intensity of a physical touch. Their eyes locked, a silent permission passing between them. Cullen could hardly wait to get the relief his body so desperately needed. Again he pressed back into Alistair, seeking the head of Alistair’s cock. Alistair pulled back briefly, his hands leaving Cullen’s hips. Cullen exhaled with relief as it became clear that Alistair was readying himself for penetration.

And then, dazzling stimulation; a firm, smooth cockhead right up against that aching ring of flesh, massaging slow circles as it pressed forward and deeper. Cullen let himself go limp again, his chest collapsing back onto the pillow as the rest of the room fell away. In a hazy world, all that remained in focus was the slow joining of his and Alistair’s bodies, the slight sting in the way his flesh stretched, the breathless pause as Alistair stopped to drip more oil over them. Then, the lazily hump of his hips as the resistance in Cullen’s ass slowly wore away. Cullen hissed against the stinging intensity and tried to bear down, imploring himself to open, to receive the piece of Alistair that his body so craved.

Onward Alistair pressed, keeping his movements slow and responding at once to Cullen’s winces and hisses. Cullen, bit his lip and urged him to continue, wanting that cock inside him, more now that their joining was almost complete than before. The completion of their joining tore a low growl from his chest, a new, overwhelming sensation unlike anything he’d ever known. Alistair was  _ inside him,  _ touching depths that no one else had ever touched. At first the bite of pain reverberated outward, drowning out even the bolts of lust firing up his loins. But as his heart beat through the seconds he began to feel looser, the bite fading into something more pleasurable.

And behind him, Alistair’s voice; a siren call to Cullen’s throbbing cock.

Slowly, cautiously, he began to rock, exploring the new sensations filling him to his furthermost limits. Alistair began an unhurried withdrawal, his oiled up thickness sliding along Cullen’s singing entrance, every vein and curve registering within his sensitive flesh. Cullen’s breath hitched in his throat, his body barely containing the intensity that crashed out from their point of contact.

Alistair leaned forward, his blazing chest covering Cullen’s back, his weight pushing Cullen downward. Cullen settled down onto the bed as Alistair followed, his cock coming back to complete immersion in Cullen’s body as they both sank into the mattress. Alistair settled on top and then slid off the to side, pulling Cullen against his chest as he rolled, until Alistair was nearly underneath and on his back. Alistair’s arms encircled Cullen’s shoulders, cradling him, pulling him back against his chest as one arm came arm around and lightly scratched down Cullen’s tensing muscles, tracing out a trail until it reached Cullen’s cock. Cullen hissed at the unexpected rawness there. Never before had his most sensitive of appendages seen so much use, and though Alistair’s ass had felt like silk, his calloused hand was simply too rough. Alistair recognized the sound and released him, his hand instead gripping into the inside of Cullen’s thigh, pulling his leg open and draping it over the top of Alistair’s hips, while he gently humped upward into Cullen’s slick entrance.

Maker, feeling the length of Alistair’s form behind him, gyrating and caressing, cradling and invading, it felt like his whole body was being dipped in a velvet pool of warmth. Alistair’s hips perfectly cupped Cullen’s ass, his cock continuing its slow rhythm as it dragged through Cullen’s tightness. Cullen merely needed to turn his head to find himself face to face with an enraptured Alistair. His parted lips, pink and glistening, were upon Cullen’s immediately, the slow depth of his kiss mirroring the languorous roll of his hips. Cullen bore down in response, feeling a cluster of nerves deep inside firing up as Alistair’s cock made contact. He moaned into Alistair’s mouth, his body now loose and receptive, each slow stroke of Alistair’s cock sending waves of pleasure up his belly. Maker, he truly did feel stretched and  _ filled,  _ a merging with another much more intimate than any he’d known before. The feeling of love and awe toward Alistair deepened; he’d though being inside Alistair was a nearly miraculous experience, but feeling Alistair so deep inside him was something else altogether.

That need deep inside him took over, driving his hips to longer, more forceful thrusts. He lifted up and then gyrated his ass back down, reveling in the sweet stretch of his body as Alistair filled him, in the sharp breaths and desperate whimpers that accompanied each coordinated movement. Alistair’s arm cushioned Cullen’s shoulders, his fingers tangling in Cullen’s hair and holding their mouths fast together.

Each time the hilt of Alistair’s cock slammed against Cullen’s cheeks he felt that cluster of nerves buzz, teasing his inner tension into a newer, even more agonizing height. Alistair’s cock seemed to fill the entirety of his belly and Cullen heard himself crying out again and again, his own voice sounding almost like a sob, his body was wracked with blissful waves of sensation.

Cullen let his hips take full control, being mostly on top, he could easily adjust their speed and depth, following the call of his pleasure with perfectly calibrated ease. One arm he pressed behind him, his hand finding and taking a palmful of Alistair’s ass in order to stabilized himself against Alistair’s body, while his other hand went to his own bollocks. His cock now too sore, he pulled at his sac, spreading his legs wider so that his fingertips could brush the thick shaft plunging deep inside him.

_ This is really happening. _

It made him breathless, every second like a dream; he was being  _ fucked,  _ deliberately and skillfully, his body taken and abandoned to new vistas of pleasure. Never before had a man’s voice sounded so blighted sexy to him, but Alistair had something special, a distinctive note to his voice that turned into pure sex when tinged with arousal. Maker, Cullen wanted to drown within him, or be fucked into mindless oblivion by him, as long as they could stay joined, as long as he could sustain this unexpected divinity for as long as possible. He clutched desperately to Alistair as he slammed his hips back around Alistair’s cock, feeling each new surge of power only tease that strange delicious spot even more. Strange how he’d been so ready to let Alistair remain at the helm and now once again he found himself the main driver, first slamming his cock deep into Alistair, and now slamming Alistair deep into him.

But it didn’t matter who was in control and who was giving it up. Nothing mattered, really. Only Alistair’s mouth, the sensations they were sharing, the joining of their bodies. Cullen felt a sweet pressure building in his cock, growing quickly in intensity until he had to break their kiss, throwing his head back upon Alistair’s should to gulp a drink of air, his chest releasing a series of cries and moans that seemed tied directly to the orgasm growing with him.

And then Alistair’s lips upon his earlobe.

“Maker, you feel so fucking good Cullen,” Alistair whispered, his throaty voice nearly a growl. “ _ Fuck…  _ you’re so fucking tight.”

The words traveled directly into the pressure building low in his belly, pushing Cullen beyond the limits of his control. He lifted his hips with an increased fervor, his internal fire stoked and growing into an overwhelming inferno.

“I’m going to come so hard inside your beautiful ass, Cullen” he continued, his lips teasing against Cullen’s ear. “ _ Fuck… I’m going to come…” _

Alistair’s voice reached a fever pitch, cut off by a grunt that seemed outside of his control. But Cullen was lost, lost inside his own internal swarm of sensations, in the heat of Alistair’s body, in the synchronized thrusting of ass against cock, cock into ass. Together they tensed into one writhing mass, Alistair’s arms tightening around Cullen’s chest, his lips suckling first on Cullen’s ear, and then roaming now his neck and biting hard into Cullen’s shoulder.

“Come with me, baby,” Alistair whispered. “Come with me…”

Cullen nodded, he would obey. So close, there was no way it would be stopped even without that demand, no way he  _ wanted _ it to stop. Alistair lost his rhythm, his cock pressing forward and remaining in place, letting Cullen drive himself harder and harder against it, until the cells in his body exploded into a crescendo of sensation that turned Cullen’s moan into a yell, his voice translating the energy surging through his body. Both clung hard to the other, quivering, emptying themselves, spasming into and around, digging into each other’s open spaces until every inch was filled. Cullen felt a spray of hot fluid up his chest, his cock spurting without even being touched, while at the same time a curious warmth spread between his asscheeks. For a long, glorious moment Cullen could not tell where Alistair ended and he began. Their mouths came back together, tongues tangling, fingers curled around muscle, flesh and into hair, teeth nipping at lips, chests heaving together, panting, the staccato hammering of heartbeats like the footfalls of a galloping horse. The searing sweetness that tore up his chest turned the world white, demolishing any remaining grasp Cullen had on the physical realm.

Careening into oblivion, there was the distant sensation of release, as though their bodies had been freed from their mortal coils and had dissipated together into some primordial mass.

Cullen let the white behind his eyes turn to black, the last of his energy purged in a blindingly satisfying burst.

  
  
  
  
  


***********

  
  
  


Birdsong cut through the morning, piercing and cheerful. A light that felt like blades piercing through Alistair’s closed eyelids. The fog of sleep was thick, draping around his mind in a smothering blanket. If not for the insistent, dry scratch in his throat Alistair might never have emerged from unconsciousness, at least not for a long while. His first attempt to move was stifled, blocked by a warm weight against him. He raised an arm to shield his eyes; even with them closed the light was still too bloody bright.

The body behind him squeezed closer. Warm, smooth flesh against his own. He registered the heaviness around his torso as an arm.

Even without the benefit of a working brain, Alistair melted back against the body. It was too rare an occasion for him to wake in the company of another, regardless of who it might have been sharing his bed. Usually his only companion was an empty space, and his own hand upon his cock. He’d rarely even open his eyes until after his routine morning wank, but his body seemed to have no need this morning. Either it was the crushing vise of the hangover or the…

An image emerged from the fog. A chiseled chest, muscular arms, brown eyes.

Alistair opened his eyes, immediately wincing against the sunlight. He looked down and confirmed it - a man’s arm, snaked under his own and holding him tightly. No sign of breasts or womanly softness behind him. Still the body he felt there fit against him perfectly, curled around him and filling him in all the ways he usually longed for.

It all came back, but blurred with the uncertainty of a dream.  _ Maker’s breath. _

The initial prickle of regret was quickly replaced as the memories solidified into something profound. New, soul rocking experiences. Pleasure unlike anything he could remember knowing before.

Right, the weird tasting ale. The insistent erection. Cullen pounding on his door, and then, the rum. And then…

He felt the remnants of their exertions in his body now. The rawness between his legs, in more places than one. But he also saw flashes of a beautiful torso flushed with pleasure and glistening with sweat. He remembered the unbearable ecstasy intensity of being filled, his body pushed to a brand new set of limits. Yes… he and Cullen had most definitely fucked. And more than once.

He relaxed back down, his hand resting on Cullen’s arm. Cullen sighed a sleepy breath and snuggled forward even more. Alistair almost laughed. Maker, the Commander was cuddler!

He quickly became aware of Cullen’s hips pressed tight against his ass. Between them, a soft bulge. Alistair’s mind raced, processing everything that he could remember.

It had been… exquisite, if he was honest with himself. His body recalled it all. They’d both come so many times, which was probably the reason for the peculiar ache deep behind his pubic bone. He recalled the sharp talons of desire that ate him up from the inside until he’d gotten what his body demanded…  _ penetration. _ Alistair had wanted to be fucked first, and  _ Maker,  _ it had been so bloody great.

There’d been the first time. Then they switched, with Alistair filling Cullen’s tight, pert ass. Alistair nearly groaned at the memory. They’d slept, but he had a hazy recollection that another session had come after. Sleepy and slow, Alistair had guided Cullen back inside him as they spooned and felt the herb drain out of their systems. That time had not been about seeking orgasm. It had merely been about being joined, in feeling each other, savoring each other’s touch, until the memory faded into darkness, or what must have been sleep.

Mmm, and Cullen had been such a good kisser. He’d been good with everything. His hands, his cock, his ass….

If there’d been any life left in his cock, he would sure it would have been solid as a rock again. But he’d been completely, utterly spent. His ass also needed a bit of recovery, that he could tell.

But still. It made Alistair wonder why he’d never considered doing such a thing before.

But he’d also never been attracted to a man before. Nothing like last night,  _ ever, _ even with the consumption of copious amounts of booze. But that herb had done its job, and the rum had helped. And Cullen was a strapping man. A strapping man with an irresistible touch.

The small twinge of discomfort subsided. There was nothing to regret. Not unless Cullen woke up angry, which was certainly possible.

But it was still early. And the Commander worked hard. Alistair didn’t know when he might have the occasion to wake up in someone’s arms again, nor the Commander a peaceful place to sleep in a little. Up in his loft above his office, he was so easily disturbed. At least that was what Alistair had thought the first time he stepped foot into that office. A knock on the downstairs door would echo through the whole of the tower, meaning Cullen could never quite escape those who came calling.

Alistair was parched, his body obviously severely dehydrated, but he was so warm and comfortable. Once Cullen was awake and they were out of bed, that would officially be the end of whatever had happened between them. He imagined Cullen would be polite, even if a bit embarrassed. Alistair could wake Cullen right then and try to talk the Commander through it, sate his curiosity about what the man might think.

Or he could let him sleep, let him get a rare morning’s rest while Alistair reveled in the warmth of his body. There’d been so little sleep last night as it was, and they both had a long day of preparations ahead of them. Alistair had to pack up his quarters, and that was after all the cleaning. Fuck, there was probably gallons of their semen sprayed around the room. And Cullen had last minute orders and coordinations to oversee. This was it, the last moments of an unlikely, temporary affair.

Alistair closed his eyes and squirmed back, pressing himself even more tightly against Cullen. He would wait, and let Cullen sleep a little longer. Cullen sighed again and squeezed at Alistair, a light twitch of movement in the appendage up against Alistair’s ass.

Alistair’s lip curled into a slow smile. It seemed impossible that Cullen might have another go left in him, not after all they’d done last night. No way, not with the herb long gone from their systems.

Still, Alistair bucked back, rolling his hips until that thick piece of Cullen settled fully into his crack. And then he relaxed again, sighing as he slid his hand up Cullen’s arm and felt Cullen’s hand open so they could interlace fingers.

Yes, he would wait to start the day and end this strange dream. Even if only just a little bit longer. 


End file.
